


The Way We Are

by Zaxal



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Established Relationship, Fighting, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Sibling Incest, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 09:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14829392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaxal/pseuds/Zaxal
Summary: In which a lot of feelings are mutual and two emotionally-stunted teenage boys don't know how to talk about them at all.





	The Way We Are

The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon, blazing all the brighter before it'd finally vanish behind the ocean's waves. Michael sighed, sitting back on the beach. His fingers dug into the sand, stealing some of the day's leftover warmth and a few quiet moments before going home.

Summer was a busy time at the banana stand. Kids with nothing better to do would come by, hang out by the tables, chatting away with their friends, laughing. Michael had seen most of them before. Some, he might be able to put names to, though none of them talked to him except to order. He might as well have been invisible.

Today, though, someone had recognized him. Called him by name. Started asking stupid questions like, "Why're you out here doing this? Your family's fucking _loaded,_ dude!" and "Is Lindsay around? Gob? D'ya know when they're working next?"

Michael had finally, with the most polite smile he could manage, asked, "Do you know what you'd like to order?"

Michael's fingers curled in the sand, feeling grains slip beneath his nails, the heated grit scraping his palm. Discomfort wound through his shoulders.

It wasn't fair. He knew that. Life wasn't fair. He was the responsible one, so their Dad trusted him with the banana stand. He had to be the responsible one while Gob was spending his summer heavily intoxicated one way or another, while Lindsay spent almost every waking moment either with the latest guy who paid attention to her or at the country club with their mother.

They were having full, fun summers, while Michael spent his days cramped in a tiny cubicle that was overbearingly hot, both due to the construction of the stand and the fact that he stood in close proximity to the machine that kept the chocolate in liquid form, overheated and all-too easy to bump into until he had almost a dozen burns on his fingers and arms.

Gripping a fistful of sand, Michael flung it into the oncoming waves with an angry yell before pulling his knees up to his chest, sitting, sulking.

"What'd the ocean do to you, guy?"

Michael jumped at the sudden sound of his brother's voice. Gob looked down at him with a lazy smirk, dropping gracelessly to the sand next to Michael. He always sat too close, unwilling to read any body language that might deter him from bothering Michael. Michael scooted away with a small sneer. "Where've you been?" When Gob opened his mouth to answer, Michael looked back out at the ocean, "Actually, never mind. I don't care."

"Ouch," Gob said insincerely. "So if I had, like, the best day of my life-?"

"Don't want to hear about it."

"The worst?"

Michael gave him a quick look, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Gob watched him back, his face as stoic as he could manage. After looking him over for a moment, Michael turned his attention back to the ocean. Perhaps Gob could fool other people, but Michael knew him too well, and his tells were as plain to him as the old nose on Lindsay's face. "You didn't."

"But if I did-?"

Michael shrugged. "You didn't, so there's no point in talking about it."

"If I knew you were gonna be this bitchy, I would've stayed up on the pier."

"I'm not being _bitchy_." Then, a thought occurred to him as he turned his head back to look at Gob, "You were there?" 

Gob shrugged, sprawled out on the sand. The warm breeze rolling off the ocean made the open collar of his shirt flap, strands of hair out of place. His sandals had been kicked off as if he intended to stay here for a while. "I got here after you closed down."

Michael bit back his assumption for a moment before it wiggled loose and spilled out: "So you wouldn't have to work. _Thanks_."

"Come on, Mikey. Like you want me in there."

Michael didn't. It was hot enough with one person, and Gob had a predisposition for trouble. "Y'know, you could take some of my shifts."

" _Yeah_ ," Gob laughed. "Like Dad would let that happen, guy."

It was a fair point, but Michael wasn't about to say that out loud. Instead, he dug his heels in, "Well, if you were more _reliable_ -"

"If I were more like you," Gob summed up sourly, his good mood fading quickly. "If I was the good little boy who did everything Daddy asked." He scowled. "Maybe if you were less 'reliable', y'know? Maybe- Maybe if you weren't trying so hard to prove you're _better_ than the rest of us-"

Michael's hands curled against his knees, smearing wet sand on his khakis. "Shut up, Gob," he said, warning.

Gob gave another laugh like he couldn't quite catch his breath. "Why? What- what are you gonna do? Am I _wrong_ , Mike? Hah, I'm not. You know I'm not. Dad could probably tell you that you needed to live out of the fucking- the goddamn banana stand, and you would-"

Michael wasn't proud of the noise he made as he launched at Gob, the angered scream echoing down the mostly-empty beach as he grabbed his brother's loose shirt, pulled him up, and _slammed_ him down into the sand. "Shut the fuck up!"

Gob didn't hesitate, fighting back like it was a reflex. A fist jabbed into Michael's chest, startling him back enough for Gob to grab him and, with his bigger body, wrest him to the ground. Michael hit at his stupid head, kicking wildly with his feet. One of them finally connected with his crotch, and Gob let go of him with a yelp, allowing Michael to get out from beneath him.

Common sense said to take the paltry victory and go home, but Michael couldn't hear it over the anger. He shoved Gob away and put a little more distance between them, already out of breath.

When Gob looked up at him, something about him had changed. There was no easy attitude; no stupid, smug, self-satisfied grin. There was a coldness there Michael had rarely ever seen. The fire-bright colors of the sunset colored his brother's face, his eyes seeming almost yellow as they glared at him. He bared his teeth in a snarl, voice deep and rough when he finally spoke. "You little _bitch_."

"Don't start what you can't finish," Michael said, the rage dying down slightly in the face of the unbridled fury Gob directed at him.

Gob made a sound not too dissimilar from Michael's own yell as he barreled over his younger brother, lanky limbs and heavier weight instantly pinning Michael to the beach. He sat on Michael's hips, grabbing Michael's arms after a short punch to his face and forced them down. His fingers dug into Michael's arms.

"You- you think you have it _so **fucking**_ hard? Oh, poor wittle Mikey." He pitched his voice higher, mocking, "Everyone trusts me, everyone relies on me, I hate that everyone likes me and wants me. It's so hard being so popular-"

"I don't want to win whatever fucking contest this is!" Michael spat at him, wiggling to try and get free. The loose sand beneath him shifted.

Gob's nostrils flared as he demanded, "Oh no? Then why are you always- always, always, al-" He took a deep breath, swallowing around the aborted sentence. With his concentration wavering, Michael tried to slip an arm out of his grip only for Gob to catch him closer to the wrist.

A sharp pain lanced through his skin and Michael cried out. "Shit!" Gob pressed harder, probably expecting Michael to fake being injured to fight back, but the increased pressure only made the pain in his arm worsen. Michael thrashed beneath him, panting heavily, whimpering, "Fuck! Gob! Gob, it hurts. Fuck, stop, it hurts. Please!"

Cautiously, Gob eased up on where he was holding Michael's arm. Beneath his hand, right where his thumb had been pressed, was a red line of skin, swollen and aching. Michael felt it throbbing, the breeze causing it to twinge now that it'd been agitated. "What's this?" Gob asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

"It's a stupid burn." At Gob's confused look, he clarified, "From the stupid thing that melts the chocolate."

Gob's eyes wandered, and he turned Michael's arm a little. "There's another one."

Michael swallowed thickly, hating how weak the pain made him feel. "There's a lot of them. I keep- keep resting my arm near it then when I move- And it's so cramped in there, I keep running _into_ it when I turn around to restock." He raised his head and thumped it back against the sand. "Stupid Michael." He lifted his head again, slamming it down harder, letting the stars spin behind his eyes, as if he'd finally get it through his thick skull. "Stupid, _stupid_ Michael."

Gob frowned, "Does Dad know?"

"I mentioned it. Once. He just... said not to do it."

Gob's expression was genuinely unreadable now, even to Michael who knew his brother better than anyone else. He lifted his head and looked around, and Michael followed suit. With the sky going dark, the number of people on the beach dwindled further. There were others, farther away, but no one was immediately near the two brothers.

When Gob met Michael's gaze again, his mask fractured, lips opening and closing a few times as he searched for something to say but came up with nothing. In the end, he steeled himself, gently pulling Michael's arm up and meeting it halfway, lips soft as they pressed against the burn.

The pain sparked through the injury again, but Michael had no more than whined, " _Gob_ ," before Gob pulled away, locating the second. This time, he was even softer, as gentle as Michael had ever seen him.

They could fight from sun up to sun down, until they were both tired and spitting vitriol at each other. It happened more often than Michael would like to admit.

Then there were moments like this. "I'll kiss the other ones, too," Gob offered. "Make 'em feel better."

That it wasn't followed by innuendo or an outright offer made Michael realize how serious he was. He choked back permission, knowing that the longer they were out here, the more likely they were to be caught or seen. "We should go home, bud."

A wounded look crossed his brother's face, but he didn't argue. Slowly, he got up, dusting himself off and slipping his sandals back on. Michael got to his own feet and tried to wipe the sand off as well before giving it up as a lost cause. He looked over at Gob, whose head was low, eyes staring off at the waves rather than at Michael or the way home.

"Hey, Gob," Michael ventured softly. Gob lifted his head a little, cocking it to the side. Michael rose up onto his toes and pressed a soft kiss to his brother's lips, feeling them waver beneath his own before Gob kissed him back. 

"You can get the rest of them when we get home, if you want," Michael suggested.

Gob's lips quirked into a smirk. "Of those? Or these?" He kissed Michael again, arms going around his brother to hold him close.

Michael gave a panicked look around, but they were alone on this part of the beach, so... "Both." He gave Gob another light peck before reluctantly pulling away. "If you want."

"Yeah. Both... both sounds _great_." His smile grew broader, infectious as always, until Michael couldn't keep himself from smiling back.


End file.
